* "As Long as You Love Me," by the Backstreet Boys.
At Twenty-One
"I don't care who you are, where you're from, what you did, as long as you love me*," I sing along with the radio.
Collins doesn't know it yet, but that's our song.
He's been staying with me since Christmas and I've been singing and smiling ever since. I try not to sing too loud since he's fast asleep just a couple of feet away.
I'm making breakfast for us. Tofu scramble since he's a vegetarian. Maybe I'll become one too.
I'm still in my pajamas but on my head is a blonde wig I bought from the Korean lady down the street from my store. I was going to put it on a mannequin, but this morning, I felt daring, so I decided to try it on. Not bad, if I do say so myself.
On his first morning here, we talked about how each of us got AIDS. I was afraid he'd think less of me when I told him about Jason.
"If you want to leave now, I'll understand," I told him. He put his arms around me and said he'd never leave.
"I'll stay as long as you want me to," he said.
"You don't think that what I did was disgusting?" I asked.
"Absolutely not," he said. "I think that what that man did was disgusting."
I was so relieved that he didn't judge me that I settled into his arms and cried.
"Besides," he said, "it's not like I was such a saint myself."
He told me that he had an affair with one of his students when he taught at NYU. The boy's parents threatened to have him fired, so he resigned from the university and went to Boston. When he tested positive for HIV, he called all of his past partners except the boy. They all claimed to be negative.
"Then one day," he said, "I got an anonymous phone call from someone who claimed to have slept with the boy. He said that he'd gotten AIDS from him and that I should be tested."
He took a deep breath and continued.
"I found out that boy had been with damn near every gay student and faculty member on campus," he said. "The guy who called me was a fellow student. When he confronted the boy, the boy threatened to have him expelled if he told anyone that they had slept together. Came from a rich and powerful family, that boy."
I looked up at Collins and saw a tear roll down his cheek. Seeing him cry made me cry again. We just lay there in each other's arms crying over each other's pain.
That's why I love that song so much. It describes our relationship perfectly.
And that morning, for the first time in almost six months, I started taking my AZT again.
And now it's New Year's Eve and tomorrow's my birthday. I want everything to be special.
"Mmm," I hear a voice exclaim, "what smells so good?" I peek my head out of the kitchen and see Collins sitting up in bed.
"Morning Sunshine," I say. He takes a look at me and smiles.
"Nice wig," he says. "What's the occasion?"
"New Year's silly," I giggle. "And tomorrow's my birthday."
"I know," he chuckles. "You only told me a thousand times since we met." He gets up out of bed and puts on his boxers. I hope he doesn't catch me staring. I can't help but stare.
"Happy birthday to you," he sings in that sexy baritone. "Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday my sweet Angel…" He takes me in his arms and kisses me on the cheek. I giggle.
"Happy birthday to you," he finishes.
"I'ma have to buy you a present, Miss Thang," he adds.
"No you don't," I tell him. "You're my Christmas and birthday present all rolled into one."
"I'm hungry," he says, "what's there to eat?"
"Tofu scramble," I tell him. "Now, sit down and I'll give you some." He sits down and I put a plate of food in front of him. Then I pour him a glass of orange juice and set that down as well. I sit across the table from him, anticipating his reaction. Please like it.
"This is good," he says. I go get myself a plate and sit back down. I take a bite and make a face. I never liked tofu. I hope he doesn't see the face I made.
He's scarfing the stuff down like there's no tomorrow. If he wants more after that, I'd gladly scrape my plate off onto his.
"If you want more, you can take from my plate," I tell him. "I'm not that hungry."
"Are you sure?" he asks, before taking a sip of orange juice.
I nod my head. Maybe I won't go vegetarian.
The phone rings and I go into the main room to answer it. It's Mark, he wants to know if Collins and I are still planning to meet him tonight.
"Honey," I call out to Collins, "it's Mark, he wants to talk to you." Collins comes into the room and takes the phone from me.
Roger, Mimi and Mark have been staying with Joanne and Maureen for the past week since they're locked out of their building. Actually, Maureen's not there anymore, Joanne threw her out. They broke up.
I go back into the kitchen and start cleaning up. I hear Collins mumbling into the phone.
"Uh, huh," he says. "Well, I don't know. I'll ask Angel."
"Ask me what?" I ask, standing in the kitchen doorway.
"Do you know where we can get a blowtorch?"
"Hmm, let's see.." I put my chin in my hand and think. "I don't know personally, but I know someone who might."
"Mark," says Collins into the phone. "We'll call you back. Angel needs to talk to somebody about a blowtorch." He hangs up the phone and looks at me.
"Who do you know that might be able to help us?" he asks.
"First of all, why do you need it?" I ask.
"Tonight, Mark and the others are going to try and break back into their building."
"Cool!" I say. "I'll call my grandma."
"Grandma?" he says. "Oh…that grandma!" He chuckles.
I told Collins all about my surrogate aunty, grandma and sisters when we first met.
"I guess you think it sounds silly," I told him.
"Not at all," he said. "when your own family casts you out, you find family elsewhere. As long as you have people who care about you, that's all that matters."
That's what I love about him, he's so understanding and he doesn't judge.
I get on the phone and dial Ross' number.
"Happy New Year, Grandma," I sing into the phone when he answers.
"You sound happy," he says.
"Oh I am and you know why," I giggle. I had told him about Collins. He told me if I was happy then so was he, but to be careful.
"Do you know where I can get a blowtorch?" I ask him.
"How 'bout the hardware store," Ross answers.
"Oh of course," I say, hitting my head. "Why didn't I think of that. Thanks Grandma." I hang up the phone and it rings again. I pick it up.
"Why do you need a blowtorch?" asks Ross.
"I can't tell you. It's a secret. Happy New Year. Bye Grandma, love you." I say before I hang up.
"Well, I'm getting dressed," I tell Collins. "Gotta go to the hardware store to buy a blowtorch."
I go outside in full drag because I feel like it. I'm wearing the blonde wig, which makes me look like Malibu Barbie. It's long and I pulled it into a ponytail. I have on a blue denim mini, a white blouse, my leather jacket, black tights and my stiletto boots.
The hardware store is practically empty and I'm a little disappointed. I was hoping to freak some people out today. I walk up and down the aisles until I see some blowtorches.
I know nothing about blowtorches, so I just pick the most expensive one. It's probably the best.
I take it up to the counter and set it down. The guy at the register looks at me for a minute before ringing it up.
"Will that be cash, check or charge, uh, Miss?" he asks me.
"Do you take Visa?" I ask. I don't even try to make my voice sound girly.
"Sure do," he says. He seems nice enough. I take the card out of my jacket pocket and hand it to him.
He rings me up and asks me if I want a bag.
"No thank you, Sweetie," I tell him. "I'll just carry it like this."
"Okay, Miss," he says, chuckling. "Happy New Year and enjoy your blowtorch."
"Thank you, I will," I tell him as I leave the store.
It's about five minutes to midnight and Collins and I are walking down 11th street to the building where Mark, Roger and Mimi live. I'm trying to conceal the blowtorch under my coat, but it looks like I'm pregnant, so I decide to just carry it. Who cares if people ask?
When we arrive, we introduce ourselves as James Bond and Pussy Galore. We'd been drinking a little so we're acting silly. I've still got the blonde wig on and I'm wearing the pink and white leather ensemble I designed especially for this night.
Only Mimi and Roger are outside. They tell me that Mark, Maureen and Joanne had managed to scale the building and climb in through a window.
I get to work on the big ass padlock. I've almost got it when I hear a big thud. Joanne has just kicked the door open. She comes outside with Mark and Maureen. I look at my watch. It's officially midinight.
Happy New Year!
We're all dancing and laughing outside and having a great time. Collins picks me up and swings me around.
Our celebration is rudely interrupted by Benny. Who knows how long he's been standing there watching us.
He starts an argument with Roger, Mimi and Maureen about messing up the door. I hide the blowtorch behind my back. Benny claims he was going to let them back in anyway. Yea, sure.
Benny messes with Roger saying that Mimi seduced him into changing his mind, which Mimi flatly refuses. I knew she and Benny had something going a while back because she used to cry to me about what a bastard he was. But I doubt Mimi would be stupid enough to sleep with him again. I sure wouldn't if I had someone as fine as Roger.
I can't stand this! I feel like messing with Benny big time.
"People," I interrupt, "is this anyway to start a new year? Have compassion, Benny just lost his cat."
"Actually, it was my dog," says Benny. "But I appreciate your concern." Dumbass, I knew it was your stupid dog who died. I was responsible for its death.
"I remember when my cat fell," I continue, trying to keep a straight face. "I went through hell." I never owned a cat in my life.
"How do you know my dog fell?" asks Benny. Oops!
"Champagne?" says Collins, offering Benny a glass he just poured. God bless you, Honey! I don't know why I care if he finds out about the damn dog.
Benny accepts the glass and proposes to dogs. Ha!
"No Benny, to you!" we all shout.
I really shouldn't be mean to Benny, though. I didn't know it was his dog when I killed it. And he never really did anything to me. Hey, he apologized didn't he?
"I say we make a resolution," I tell everyone, "that we'll always stay friends."
They all stare at me.
"I'm serious," I say. "I've know some of you, Mimi, Maureen, Mark, for a while now. And the others, I've gotten to know over the past week. We've been through a lot. Let's not throw that away." Suddenly I'm all serious. I hope they can all see that.
Everyone expresses their agreement and we decide to go to the Life Café. Mimi some how gets left behind. Oh well, she'll catch up later.
The maitre'd isn't happy to see us but he seats us anyway. I guess it's because I held a $50 bill in front of my face. As I pass him, I discreetly hand him the bill.
Collins announces that it's my birthday.
"Twenty-one years ago, this beautiful creature was born," he says. He's a little drunk. I feel my face get hot.
Everyone cheers and sings to me…loud! We don't get kicked out though, because we're surrounded by people who are louder and drunker than we are.
At around three o'clock in the morning, we all part ways. Back at my place, my man and I have a little celebration of our own.
"Happy birthday, my sweet Angel," he sings between kisses. "Happy birthday to you."
I must say, this year has gotten off to a great start for me. I have a wonderful man in my life and my business is doing great. Mimi and Maureen have started working for me, which is cool. The customers appreciate their fashion advice.
Today, however, didn't start out so well. I've just come out of the stock room when Maureen and Mimi tell me to go outside to look at the store window.
"I think it is absolutely disgusting," Maureen exclaims. She grabs my hand and leads me outside. A large red swastika has been spray painted on the display window.
"We didn't get a good look at the bastards, sorry," says Mimi.
"It's okay, Sweetheart," I say, blinking back tears. I go inside and get a bucket of water and a sponge from the stock room. This isn't the first time some asshole's vandalized the store and others on this block. The adult video store gets crosses painted on it all the time.
As I'm washing off the mess, Maureen's babbling about how America's a free country and people of all colors and sexual orientations should be able to coexist peacefully and so on. I want to tell her to shut the hell up, but she means well, so I don't.
"Hey faggot," growls a voice behind me. "What's the matter, don't you like how we decorated your store window?" I turn around and see two skinheads sneering at me. I'm in full drag today, but it's still easy to tell I'm not a real girl.
"What the hell?" I scream at them.
"Look at you," says one of them. "You make an ugly girl." Obviously the motherfucker doesn't get out of Jersey too often.
"Who'd want you when they can have a real woman, like them?" the first one says, pointing to the girls.
"Look, asshole," I tell him. "I am more of a woman than you will ever have and more of a man than you will ever be!" I threw the red, soapy sponge at him. Then I dump the bucket of water over his friend's head.
By this time, people have stopped on the street to witness the confrontation. Many of these people are business owners who have also been hit by vandals. My neighbors applaud and holler. Embarrassed, the skinheads run down the street. They're chased by two big, beefy guys from the leather bar.
I'm still too pissed to laugh. I go inside and put the bucket and sponge away.
"Wow girl, you are fierce!" says Mimi, holding up her hand. I smack it and then go sit behind the counter.
"I'm sick of people coming into this neighborhood just to cause trouble. Why can't they leave us alone?" I fold my arms and rest my head down on the counter. I start to cry. The girls come behind the counter and put their arms around me.
"They come around here because their neighborhood is so damn boring," says Maureen. We all laugh.
I can't say that everyone who passes through is bad.
About a month after the incident, I encountered the other kind of unexpected visitor.
I'm coming back from the diner with lunch for me and the girls when I spot them. A family of four; mom, dad, boy, girl, comes walking toward me. They look lost and scared. Some of the people on the street are whispering, pointing and laughing.
"I bet they're from the Midwest," says Lamarr, the adult video store owner.
Finally, the four of them sit down on a bus bench. The dad pulls out a map and unfolds it.
"They're consulting a map," says Julie, from the tattoo and piercing place. "This is too much."
What's wrong with them? Would they rather have Bubba the skinhead and his inbred friends pass through again?
I approach the family and offer assistance.
"Excuse me," I say. They all turn to look at me. Obviously, they're freaked out by my appearance. I'm in drag again.
"Would you like some help getting out of the neighborhood?" I ask.
"I don't get it," says the dad, "we're trying to find the Statue of Liberty. This map doesn't do us any good." I'm so relieved that he trusts me.
"Come on," I tell him. "I'll get you out of the neighborhood safely. Whoever sold you that map should be sued."
Smiling, they all get up and follow me. People are peering out of store windows at us.
"First, I need to drop this food off," I tell them. I lead them to Angel Baby's and ask them to come inside and wait.
I introduce them to Mimi and Maureen who smile and wave.
"What's shakin'?" says Maureen. The kids giggle. The parents look around the store.
"I'm going to take these poor people to the Statue of Liberty," I tell the girls. "They have a defective map."
We take the subway to the Stated Island ferry. I pay everyone's fare. They're asking me questions like how long have I lived in New York and is my name really Angel. I tell them that I've lived in New York all my life and that my name really is Angel.
"In the Hispanic culture," I explain to them, "it's not unusual to name your son Angel."
"Do you know that you've got a dress on?" the little girl asks.
"Why yes, honey," I tell her. "I designed this dress and sewed it myself. Do you like it?"
"I think it looks pretty," she says.
When we get to the docks I tell them that this is where we part ways.
"I really must get back to work," I tell them.
"We can't thank you enough young ma-, I mean, Angel," says the dad.
"Don't mention it," I say.
"Wait," says the mom, "can we get a picture of you?"
"Why cetainly," I say. The mom asks a passerby to take the picture. As the man hands her back the camera, he shakes his head. Before leaving, I catch a glimpse of the boy. He has blonde hair and blue eyes like Erich. I wonder what he'll grow up to become.
Lately I haven't been feeling well, but I'm too scared to go to the doctor. I'm afraid of what he might tell me. I have this nasty cough that won't go away. It sounds just like Sherese's.
This morning, Collins won't let me go to work because I've spent the last half hour in the bathroom throwing up.
"The girls will handle it, Angel," he says. "You get some rest."
Why is there fear in his eyes?
One day off from work becomes a whole week. I'm having trouble getting out of bed. Why isn't this AZT working like it's supposed to?
I'm trying to wake up one morning when Collins nudges my shoulder.
"Angel Baby," he says, "Ross is on the phone, do you feel like talking?" I manage to sit up in bed.
"Sure," I say, "give me the phone." He hands it to me.
"Hi Grandma," I say, trying unsuccessfully to sound cheerful.
"Angel," he says, "Tom says you've been really sick. What happened, did you stop taking your meds?"
"For a while I did," I tell him. "But since I met Tom, I've been taking them every day."
"And how are your t-cells?" he asks.
"I don't know," I say.
"When's the last time you've been to the doctor?"
"About a year ago."
"Angel! What are you thinking?" he scolds. "You know that the only way to keep from getting really sick is to take your meds and see the doctor."
"Yea, well on the Real World that Hispanic guy, Pedro took his meds and saw the doctor and he died," I tell Ross.
When Mimi was in the middle of her Benny crisis, the first one, I used to spend a lot of time at her place. She had an illegal cable hook up. Pedro died about a year after the show aired and she told me about it. We held a small memorial service for him in her apartment. It was nice, we lit candles and prayed.
"This ain't a television show, Angel, this is your life," he says.
A few weeks later, I'm trying to get out of bed. I manage to stand up but I fall down on the floor. I'm sweaty and shaky. Collins picks me up and puts me back in bed.
Lately, he hasn't been sleeping in the bed with me. Instead, he sleeps in the recliner next to the window. Is he afraid of me.
I hear his voice mumbling. I think he's talking on the phone. I drift off to sleep again, only to have him tap on my shoulder.
"Angel, Ross is on his way," he says. "We're taking you to the hospital."
"No!"
"Yes, baby. You're getting too sick to stay here."
"But the store…"
"The girls have everything under control," he says.
"But they have other jobs too," I tell him.
"One's a stripper and the other's a performance artist," he chuckles. "Hardly the nine to five grind."
Ross and Collins are the only people who are allowed to come visit me. Ross told the hospital staff that he was my grandfather and that Collins was my half brother. I don't think they believe it, but I don't think they care, either.
Some days I'm able to sit up in bed and talk. On those days, Collins tells me what everyone's up to. The girls want to know if they can include S and M stuff in the store.
"Sure," I say, "as long as they don't stray too far from the original concept. The queens depend me."
Collins looks at me for a while and then clears his throat.
"Angel…"
"Yes?"
"Never mind."
"Honey, if you have something to say to me, I wish you'd just say it," I tell him.
"You know you might not get out of here," he says.
"But today I'm feeling better," I tell him, "and yesterday…"
"But not everyday," he says. "You've got to stop talking as if you're going to go home. Because you're not." He looks down at the floor.
"I'm sorry babe," he whispers.
"But I've got you coming to visit me every day," I insist. "You're taking care of me. You're love is the only thing I need." He gives me a pained smile.
"I wish it were that simple," he says. "But it's not. You're dying." He starts to cry and then I start too.
We hold each other and just cry.
A few days later, I get an unexpected visitor. Someone I never wanted to see again.
She stands in the doorway and just looks at me. She looks old and worn out. I hope she doesn't blame me for that.
"Who let you in here?" I snap.
"I told the nurse who I was m'ijo."
"M'ijo? That's funny, the last time we spoke, you told me I wasn't your son!"
"I'm sorry," she whispers. Well, she should be.
"Look lady," I shout at her with all the strength I could muster, "get the hell out of here! I have nothing to say to you!" She backs away from the door and disappears.
Later that day, Ross comes to see me. It's time to draw up my will.
"Did your mother come and see you?" he asks.
"So you're the one who told her I was here!"
"Yes, I did," he tells me. "I thought she should see you at least once before you pass on." By this time, I've accepted the fact that I won't be leaving this hospital alive.
"Why did you do that?" I asked.
"Because I feel bad that Sherwin's mother didn't get to see him before he died. And my mother won't see me before I die."
"But you two weren't kicked out of your house for being gay!"
"You don't know that," he says. "You think you're the only one whose parents couldn't accept their gay son?"
"Sorry," I tell him. "You should have told me first."
"I know," he says. "I should have. But we have more important matters to discuss."
"I was hoping we could put this off."
"Until when?"
"Fine," I tell Ross. "First off, I want Collins to take over the lease to the apartment."
"That's been done," he says.
"I want the girls to become managers of the store," I say.
"Arrangements have already been made."
"As for my money, I want it to go to you and Collins. A fifty-fifty split."
"I can't take your money, kid," he says.
"You have to, you've done so much for me," I insist.
"Okay then," he chuckles. "But not fifty-fifty. More like sixty-forty. I'll take the forty."
"Okay."
About a week later, I can no longer sit up in bed. It hurts to even talk. Collins has been coming every night. He talks to me and sings to me. I have my own room, so he's allowed to sleep in the extra bed.
Six months ago, he got a teaching job at CUNY. I hope nobody makes trouble for him there. He had gotten his old job back at NYU, but he said the place brought back too many bad memories.
One night when he comes to see me, I can barely move at all.
"Hey Sugar, did you miss me," he says, smiling.
I nod my head. It hurts to nod. He holds my hand. I grab onto his arm with both hands.
"Want me to sing you a song?" he asks. He's got such a beautiful voice.
"What's that song from the radio that you used to like so much? The one that you said was our song?"
I want to answer, but I can't.
"Although loneliness has always been a friend of mine," he begins. 'That's the one', I want to say.
"Let me know if I mess up, okay?" he chuckles. I wish I could talk, but I can't.
"Good, good," he says, playing along.
"I'm leaving my life in your hands," he continues. He sings a few more lines. The sound of his voice is very soothing.
I slip away into total darkness.
I don't wake up.